The Veil and the Pensieve
by Vortigun
Summary: A short story, designed to get across my feelings about the Veil in OotP.


The Veil and the Pensieve

The Headmaster closed the door of his circular office, leaving Albus alone inside it. This was the first time he had been alone in the Headmaster's office, and he was certainly not going to waste this opportunity to look around it by sitting in his chair and staring out of the window, scattered with stars. To his mild dislike he found that it was much too dark to see anything of particular interest, and was in the motion of reaching for his wand, when dull silver light appeared, shimmering upwards from inside a glass cabinet. He walked up to the cabinet to take a closer look at what he had mistaken for a basin full of water at a first glance.

He looked warily around at the portraits on the walls of past Headmaster and Headmistresses of Hogwarts, before leaning towards the basin. On closer inspection he saw that the basin was made of stone, with runes he recognised from his own reading, calved around the edge. The source of light, he now came to realise was an image floating in the swirling silver mist in the bottom of the shallow basin; something that he concluded must not have been there before, as the source of light had only appeared after his Headmaster had left the room. He recognised the basin to be a Pensieve; an object in which you can transfer your own thoughts. On first impressions he thought it must unwise to look any closer; they were not his thoughts after all, and who was he to intrude on anyone's personal thoughts? Let alone his Headmaster's. But then, curiosity overcame him, questioned began to form in his mind. Why did the Pensieve only start to give off its strange aura after his Headmaster had left? Why was it doing this at all? Why was it showing him this particular image? Almost subconsciously he leaned forward, so that his head was right over the Pensieve and he could see clearly the image below. Even with all these questions, his curiosity was almost beyond reason, he thought to himself, mildly.

Looking past his long nose into the Pensieve he saw circles of people sitting around the centre of a rectangular room. There was nothing Albus could see in the middle, for of course, even if there was a podium there, as his was a birds-eye view he would hardly be able to recognise it through the distorted silvery smoke. Almost as though the Pensieve had reacted to his thoughts, the surface of it became as glass, looking more like water than fog. Something seemed to flutter, slightly off-centre, and suddenly he could see more clearly that the centre of the room seemed to be a raised dais. He barely had time to register this, before his stomach gave an unexpected lurch, as his long nose touched the tip of the glassy water. He was thrown head first into the icy depths of the Pensieve and dimly he recognised a small burst of guilt as he had done what he had never truly intended to.

He was not surprised to find himself inside the room he had been staring into, nor that he was sitting directly beside his Headmaster, although looking at him made the feeling of guilt squirm and magnify unpleasantly in his stomach. Ignoring his guilty conscience, he looked at the wizards and witches behind him. Their faces bore rather mixed and confusing emotions. Some looked very white and almost sick, while others bore looks of contempt and malice. They were all staring directly in front of them, and as he turned himself, he found it was quite easy for him to forget his feelings of guilt now. Turning around to look at what everyone else was staring at, he saw what he had correctly guessed to be a dais in the middle of the amphitheatre, some ten feet below him, and about twenty feet from the top of the room. In the centre of this was a large stone archway. The archway looked older than anything Dumbledore had ever seen, even nothing in Hogwarts compared to the age of it. It was cracked, and looked ready to fall apart; he was surprised it was still standing at all. Hung from arch was a black veil, fluttering slightly in the lack of wind. Albus thought this a most curious sight, more intriguing in fact than the Pensieve itself. What were all these people doing here? Why were they sitting in complete silence, as if anticipation? He himself found the veil a rather artistic and even beautiful sight, and could not fully comprehend why everyone was sitting watching it with such fear or contempt, nor explain his feelings towards the veil itself.

He admired it for several more minutes. He found it mesmerising to look at the repetitive rippling the veil made as if wind had touched its black surface. He was about to leave his seat and take a better look at it when a harsh sound pierced the deadly silence, interrupting his thoughts. Three people entered, confusing the scene even more. The first was a tall man in black robes with a set, austere face. It was stony white like many other people sitting in the room. The second two figures entered almost at the same time. One was slumped over in the others forceful grip, he looked thin and weak, he had been stunned, but for what reason he could only guess. The other figure looked large and burly, also in black robes, but this one, unlike the first had a dirty brown bag over his head, with two eye-holes. Even more perplexed, he sat, watching and tentative.

The first man reached the dais and stood beside it, not stepping onto the large platform. The third figure manoeuvred his stunned captive onto the dais, standing directly in front of the veil.

The first man pulled from inside his robes a roll of parchment and a wand, pointing it as the stunned man slumped in the third mans arms. He could guess the words he was going to utter. "_Enervate_" the man said in a cold high voice, which pierced the hall and sent a shiver down his spine. The second man abruptly came to life as though he had been fast asleep. He struggled in the larger man's powerful grip immediately. His face was white and he looked terrified; he began to scream and cry into the almost silent room. No one around the room showed any sign of sympathy for him. Albus felt uncomfortable now, the entrance of these three mysterious and sinister figures had unhinged his curiosity.

The first man unrolled his parchment and began to speak again, reading from the short length of paper in his hands. "You have been tried in front of the full Wizengamot for the following crimes," read the first man, in a high, callous voice, "Use of the unforgivable Cruciatus curse and Avada Kedavra curse on Muggles. The Wizengamot has found you guilty of both these charges, and we have no hesitation in sentencing you to death, in front of witnesses in the death chamber."

Albus twisted in his seat at these words, panic setting in his mind, looking for some form of escape, but none was to be found. Emotions raced through his thoughts, mingled with the continued screams and cries of the captive. Albus had realised, with the tall man's last words, what this veil must do and why some people in the room looked at it with such wide-eyed terror. Despite Albus' intense desire to find an escape, any escape, the sentence continued.

"Cast him in!" the man almost screamed with malice alight in his voice, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

"NO!" Albus cried inaudibly to the crowd as his thoughts screamed in his ears. The larger man threw his captive onto his knees, and then kicked him forcefully through the veil. The screams echoed in Albus' head, and he felt sick and horrified as the veil fluttered high above the dais, then settled itself back down to its original position, fluttering innocently. Many people had stood up to clap as the man had been thrown through, looks of set anger on their faces. Albus only mildly took this in as he clutched his stomach, the culminated sound of the clapping the man's screams reverberated painfully in his head, trying not to vomit as the events swirled horrifically inside him. An arm clutched his shoulder and pulled him out of the Pensieve's depths.

Moments later Albus was back in his Headmaster's office. He didn't register the expression on his Headmaster's face, as he collapsed onto all fours, retching. He dimly heard his Headmaster say "Dumbledore?" before he vomited, and then remembered no more.


End file.
